


in gold

by montecarlos



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Racing, Season 3, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Antonio saw little point in covering his body in swirls of various colour. He hated the very idea of it - that the slightest touch of someone who would mean something to you would allow for bright colours to blossom up and taint his skin.Robin was covered in them - all streaking over different parts of his body. It’s strange really - to say he doesn’t really care for the colours, he knows most of the drivers and what their colour their marks are.
Relationships: António Félix da Costa/Robin Frijns
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	in gold

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, I wrote this fic back in December and didn't realise that I'd actually finished it. It wasn't until tonight when I was trying to avoid another fic that I found this, and thought, fuck it, might as well release it into the wild. This follows season 3 of FE when Robin and Antonio were teammates and the majority of the results are valid and actually happened, Alex on standby at Monaco was also a thing. I do love the idea of soulmarks being random spots of colour and it was very fun to pick out colours. The ending, I'm not 100% happy with, but I like the idea that it's hopeful and not everything is perfect. I hope you all enjoy this, it's been a while since I wrote Robin/Ant. 
> 
> For D, my love, my heart.

Ant didn’t touch anyone’s bare skin, not if he could help it. He had a few streaks of colour dotted over his lightly tanned skin - his mother’s deep bordeaux red smeared across one cheek when she’d first brushed his face as an infant, his father’s dark grey swirling over one of his arms as he’d comforted his crying son, his big brother’s turquoise mark curling around his index finger and thumb when they’d met for the first time twenty five years ago. But other than his close family, the Portuguese man possessed very few marks. He saw little point in covering his body in swirls of various colour. He hated the very idea of it - that the slightest touch of someone who would mean something to you would allow for bright colours to blossom up and taint his skin. 

He’s been at the beach surfing far too many times and seen people covered head to toe in various splashes of colour - red swirling down their neck, blues curling around their wrists, yellows dancing down their ribcage. He does have a few others, of course, people that have slipped through the net. Mitch’s rose gold mark clings to the curve of his ass when they met the first time and he’d had his ass squeezed, liquid brown eyes gazing into his own as the Kiwi had given him a welcome smirk. Mitch’s mark had been joined by those of Nick - an almost beige colour on his ankle - and Daniil, which was the colour of merlot curling over his arm.    
  
And when he arrived in Formula E, that didn’t change. He always made sure not to initiate contact with others, careful not to allow anyone else to spread their colours over him. He remembers tracing the bordeaux red mark of his mother, remembering the story she used to tell him - that everyone had a special person, a person whose colour would be brighter than all the others. He remembers tracing the mark that was curled around his mother’s left hand, the dark grey of his father that was in the shape of a heart, that he must have traced all those years ago. The mark on his mother’s hand was much brighter than the mark left by his father on his own skin.    
  
“You will find your own special person one day, chuchu,” His mother had said softly.    
  
And at first, he had believed her. He thought he’d found that person in Adriana. They’d met when he was just starting out - a skinny kid who was pretty good in karts with big teeth and bad hair and she was stunning, all long legs and long blonde hair. He still has her mark, the smears of her lilac mark still evident on the tanned skin of his neck. He still remembers the mark he left on her - his own colour, a beautiful light blue colour - that curled gently around her thin wrist. They’d whispered promises to one another, they’d kissed in the golden sand under the moonlight and things were great. Until the racing life really kicked in - he was never around and Adriana resented that. They dissolved into shouting matches, into hurt eyes and teardrops before she packed her suitcase. As the door slammed shut, Ant swore he could feel the mark on his neck ache and resolved never to give himself up like that to anyone again.    
  


* * *

  
He met Robin for the first time when they were doing Red Bull testing together - he didn’t really think much of him then, Robin was a few weeks older but he was like an excitable puppy bouncing up and down whenever he got to test the car. They saw each other sometimes at races - barely for more than a few minutes though - until Robin followed Ant into Formula E. He didn’t see much of him at first - they were in different teams so it was to be expected - but it didn’t seem to stop Robin trying to converse him when they waited for their names to be called out. The first thing he noticed about the Dutchman was the large number of swirls covering his body. He spots the familiar swirl of Mitch’s rose gold on his collarbone, just visible under his Andretti shirt. The white he knows to be Simona’s is evident on Robin’s cheek - he tells everyone he gained it by her pinching his cheek and calling him a handsome boy.    
  
Robin was covered in them - all streaking over different parts of his body. It’s strange really - to say he doesn’t really care for the colours, he knows most of the drivers and what their colour their marks are. Lucas’s is a deep red like the colour of his Abt car, Daniel’s an obnoxious yellow, Buemi’s an understated navy, Sam’s a bright purple, Loic’s a beautiful teal colour. But he’s still unsure of what colour Robin’s mark is - he tries to spot it on Simona, her being the obvious choice, but she’s lost in a swirl of colours - the colours of the other drivers along her travels. Come to think of it, most of the drivers possess each other’s marks curling up their arms, hidden under the collars of their overalls. Ant spots Loic’s teal trailing up Lucas’s collarbone, Mitch’s ear covered with a smear of grey-white that he knows belongs to Alex Lynn. These marks seem to shine brighter than the other smudges of colour over their skin. Sometimes Ant looks at their marks with jealousy, finds his fingers ghosting over the lilac mark that Adriana had left on his skin.    
  
Robin doesn’t leave like she did. He keeps talking to Ant, keeps dragging him into conversations with the other drivers. Ant finds himself glancing at the swirls of colour over Robin’s arm, over his fingers from numerous encounters and feels his heart ache. Robin laughs at something that Daniel had said, and Ant spots Daniel’s hand swipe over the obnoxious mark that he left on Robin’s elbow at some point. Something sour settles in his chest. They talk about the race, joke about who they want in their group and Ant feels bright blue eyes on him the entire time. The talking soon dies down as they’re called out one by one to claim their balls. He watches Robin go up after him, sees the teal of Loic curling around his wrist as he pulls out a green ball. His face immediately falls.    
  
“I wanted to be in the same group as you,” He admits to Ant later.   
  
Ant can’t think why. He’s not sure why Robin sees him as a rival of sorts - sure, they’re of a similar age and they’ve been in a few of the lower categories together but to him, it doesn’t make sense why Robin sees him as his equal. He tries not to stare at the smear of white trailing along Robin’s face, wonders what it would look like with his own bright blue trailing over the top of the Dutchman’s pale skin. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus on what Daniel is joking about, about Lucas’s bellowing about something as he usually does, his brown eyes fixed on Loic and the red streak on his shoulder blade.    
  
But Robin lingers in the back of his mind, like an itch that won’t go away. He finds the swirls of colour decorating Robin’s skin interesting. None of them are the bright colour that would indicate Robin had found the person of his dreams, but Ant knows that it could be anywhere on his body. He’s never seen Robin with anyone - never seen anyone in Robin’s side of the garage, never seen anyone on his social media channels.    
  
Robin stays in his life, however. They sometimes ate together, sometimes talked together and went out for shots with Daniel. Ant would watch the German curl his arm around Robin’s shoulder and pull him close, the pair of them giggling. Ant often wondered if there was something more between them. But he never said anything - he knew where Daniel’s mark was on Robin, on the curve of his elbow and it didn’t seem brighter than the intended marks were supposed to be. The ache in his chest didn’t subside though at the sight of Daniel’s fingers stroking over Robin’s arm.    
  
Then everything changes. Suddenly Aguri folds under the pressure and Ant finds himself without a drive - that is until Simona leaves for Australia, for beaches and bronzed skin and Ant is offered the seat at Andretti, with Robin. Suddenly, his carefully constructed plans to try avoid the Dutchman for the next season are ruined as he rolls into the Parisian headquarters and sees Robin for the first time, grinning widely in his tight blue overalls.    
  
“We’re going to be teammates,” Robin says with a smile on his face.    
  
Ant smiles and nods once. But he makes sure that Robin doesn’t touch him. He can’t afford any marks - he doesn’t want anymore, he’s been careful all his life. And it’s still careful as he settles into life at MS Amlin Andretti. At first, it’s easy, he’s busy with simulator work, with work for BMW and adjusting to the new car in between going back to Portugal and playing with his dogs on the beach. However, there’s times late at night that he catches sight of the faded lilac mark spread across his neck- wonders if he made the right choice. In the dim light of his bathroom, it’s almost as though the colour of the mark has faded as his fingers ghost over it, memories of Adriana brushing against the surface of his mind. But it gets harder to avoid Robin - to avoid his infectious laugh and his wide grin that spreads over his face. He has to get used to Robin curling up wherever he get to catch a quick nap in between qualifying sessions. He soon becomes aware of the short Dutchman always napping in the back of the garage.   
  


* * *

  
But after Marrakesh, everything changes. Robin is asleep on one of the makeshift beds in the back of the garage after the race, his hand pillowed under his head. He looks peaceful to Ant - his dark hair is mussed and his fireproofs slowly rise up as his short shallow breaths filter through the oil-filled air. Ant knows he should leave but he can’t bring himself to do so. His feet move closer towards the sleeping Dutchman - Robin doesn’t stir at all, deep in the throes of his sleep. Before he can stop himself, Ant finds himself bending down over Robin, his fingers brushing against Robin’s cheek. It’s rougher than he imagined, covered in a fine dusting of stubble. Robin’s breath gently ghosting over his tanned fingers - until he spots something blossoming over the skin he just touched.    
  
“Shit,” Ant murmurs under his breath, pulling his fingers away and cursing his lapse in judgement as he watches the bright blue of his own mark blossom over Robin’s cheek. It’s brighter than anything he’s ever seen before.    
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ant murmurs under his breath as Robin’s nose wrinkles slightly at his voice. He wrenches his hand away as though Robin’s skin burns and immediately leaves the garage. His own hand is clear of any marks but it feels like it burns and he keeps thinking about Robin’s pale skin blossoming with the bright blue that he knows he possesses. He tries to remember how bright his father’s mark was on his mother, tries to remember if Robin’s was as bright.    
  
Robin wakes up half an hour later, slightly groggy from his nap. He brushes his hand over his face, his skin feels slightly warm to the touch. He feels as though somebody was in the garage with him only a few moments ago - it was a strange sensation and he could have sworn he heard cursing.    
  
“Hey Frijns,” A familiar voice breaks through his thoughts. Dani stands before him with a wide grin on his face, the marks on his skin rival those of Robin’s. Dani has always been an affectionate guy and his skin is almost like a canvas. Robin can spot the bright silver that belongs to Felix shining brightly on his arm - the mark that shines brighter than all the others, even his own orange mark that stains Dani’s shoulder pales in comparison.    
  
“What are you doing here, Dani?” Robin says with a smile, moving closer for a hug.    
  
“Well, I was in the area and-” Dani stops mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. “New mark?” He says, his eyes roving over Robin’s face.    
  
“What?” Robin asks, confused. “What mark?”   
  
“That mark on your cheek,” Dani says, gesturing at his own cheek. “It’s really bright-” 

Robin moves his fingers over his cheek as though he can feel the mark. “I didn’t touch anyone-”   
  
“Well, you’ve got a big bright blue mark on your cheek,” Dani says, his grin still wide on his face. Robin wordlessly moves towards the small bathroom at the back of the Andretti garage and his eyes meet his pale heart shaped face. The mark is exactly as Dani described it - it’s blue, a bright electric blue, almost the colour of the Formula E banners - and it’s a colour that Robin can’t remember seeing on anyone else.    
  
“Fuck,” Robin whispers, tracing over the mark left on his cheek. It almost looks like somebody’s fingertips brushed against his skin. “I didn’t have this when I went to sleep, it’s so bright. It’s like-”   
  
“Your special person,” Dani says softly. “That’s the mark of the person-”   
  
“I know,” Robin says, eyes dancing over the blue. “But I don’t know who gave it to me,”   
  
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dani asks, eyebrow raised.    
  
“I was sleeping!” Robin sighs, fingers dropping away from the mark. “Does the colour look familiar to you?” Dani’s eyes move to slide up his own arms, over the various colours that mark up his arms but he can’t find the colour that matches the one on Robin’s cheek.    
  
“No, I don’t seem to have that person, maybe it’s someone we don’t know,” Dani says, his eyes still roving over the mark.   
  
“Maybe someone else does,” Robin says defiantly.   
  
He manages to catch Daniel before he leaves for the airport - it’s too late to catch anyone else, most of the other garages are empty. Strangely, even Ant seems to have disappeared which isn’t like him - usually he stays around for a couple of hours but his garage is empty and his BMW is missing from the lot.    
  
“Robin,” Daniel says warmly, his white wide smile on his lips. He immediately spots the bright blue mark on Robin’s cheek. “I see you’ve been busy,”   
  
“That’s what I wanted to ask about, actually,” Robin says, his hand rubbing over the mark. “I don’t know who it belongs to, I fell asleep in the back of the garage and woke up with it on my face,”   
  
“It’s really bright,” Daniel says, flashing his white teeth. “Brighter than any of your other marks,”   
  
“I know,” Robin says, looking at his orange shoes. “Do you know who it belongs to?”   
  
Daniel’s brown eyes rove over the blue mark. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that colour before,” His eyes flicker up his own arms where an array of colours dance up and down his lightly tanned skin - however, there’s no blue like the one that is burned into Robin’s mind. There’s a darker shade that is similar but Daniel notices his eyes stopping on that mark. “That’s Mark, my PR officer’s mark,” 

Robin nods once and wonders who on earth gave him the mark. He’s never had one that bright before. It wasn’t something that really bothered him but he still allowed people to touch him, for their marks to be left on his skin. He has everyone’s - Daniel’s obnoxious yellow, Felix’s silver, Lucas’s red, Loic’s teal - there’s a mish-mash of colours painted over his pale skin. Maybe Heidfeld knows who the mark belongs to - he’s been around longer than most of the drivers and he has a mirage of driver’s colours winding up his arms. Robin’s own orange mark is on Nick’s arm somewhere, hidden amongst the other smudges of colour, none of them are particularly bright.    
  
“What are you going to do?” Daniel asks slowly, his eyes still on the mark.    
  
“I’m not sure yet,” Robin answers honestly, his fingertips are still brushing over the mark as he watches Daniel get into his car and drive away. He can’t help but wonder if the person who left the mark has already left. His thoughts turn to the people who he hasn’t received marks from - the image of his teammate floats up before his mind for just a moment, long enough for Robin to distinguish his brown eyes and his caramel skin before it disappears again. Robin barely sleeps on the flight back to Maastricht.    
  
Ant tries to forget about the mark he placed on Robin’s skin. But the images of the bright blue mark he left on pale skin plagues his mind as he feels the sand between his toes, Taco barking around his ankles. He doesn’t want to think what the mark means. He imagines Robin touching him and not a single blossom of colour brushing over his skin. That night, he dreams of it, of his caramel skin untainted by Robin’s touch, about the Dutchman looking at him with hardened eyes.    
  
“I never liked you anyway,”   
  
“Robin, please-”   
  
“I hate you. That’s why I could never leave a mark on your skin,”   
  
Ant wakes up in a cold sweat, the sheets still sticking to his damp body.    
  


* * *

  
He tries to avoid Robin in Buenos Aires - but it’s difficult. The Dutchman has a habit of seeping into his bones, to get into Ant’s thoughts. He watches Robin laughing with his mechanics on the other side of the garage, marks visible on his arms where he’s rolled up his sleeves. Ant can see his own mark still staining Robin’s cheek and its intensity hasn’t dimmed in the few weeks they were apart. Ant finds himself gazing down at his fingertips, at the digits that made that mark blossom on the pale skin of his teammate. Sometimes his fingertips tingle with a warmth that he can’t explain, like the ignition of a fire. He’s so caught in his own thoughts he doesn’t realise the person standing in front of him.    
  
“Toni,” A warm, familiar voice envelopes the silence and Ant shakes himself out of his thoughts. Robin stands before him, still wearing his overalls. The brightness of the sunshine intensifies the colours of his marks, specifically the bright blue on his cheek. Ant jolts at the sight of the man before him, his eyes scan over the lilac mark on Ant’s cheek for a millisecond before they soften. “Someone’s jumpy,”   
  
“You sneaked up on me,” Ant says quietly.    
  
“And grumpy too,” Robin replies, a smile on his lips. “Did you not get enough sleep?”   
  
“You clearly did, Frijns,” Ant says, a smile of his own surprisingly brushing over his lips for a moment.    
  
“You’re right. Had at least twelve hours,” Robin says smugly.    
  
“You’re always sleeping,” Ant says, shaking his head. He tries not to glance at the bright blue mark spreading out over his teammate’s cheek but it’s hard not to. He tries not to think about the brightness of the colour, what it all means.    
  
“You’re staring,” Robin says, cocking his head slightly. “What’s wrong? Is it the colour-”   
  
“No, no,” Ant says a little too quickly, cursing himself internally. “I just-”   
  
“Do you know who it belongs to?” Robin asks, his blue eyes burning into Ant’s.    
  
“I-” Ant begins, only to thankfully be interrupted by Mark, calling the pair over to look over the telemetry. He sighs in relief, trying not to flex his fingers as he disappears into his own part of the garage, his eyes trying not to find the bright mark on Robin’s cheek.    
  
Ant still can’t stop staring at Robin as they make their way over to the stage for the qualifying draw, and he’s not the only one, it seems.    
  
“What’s that on your face Frijns?” Mitch teases, his hand moving to brush against the mark that seems so stark against his pale skin. “Who is he, huh?”   
  
Robin  _ blushes _ . “I don’t know, I woke up with this,”   
  
“Bullshit. Who is your mystery man?” Mitch asks, ribbing the Dutchman as Lucas’s name is called to receive his ball. “Some new boyfriend, I presume? Tell Mitchy all about it,”   
  
“Honestly, Mitch. I don’t know who it belongs to,”   
  
Mitch glances over his own arms, hoping to find one that remotely matches the bright blue on Robin’s cheeks - but he only finds baby blues and a navy on the crook of his elbow. “I don’t think I have that person either. Is there anyone new on the team?”   
  
“I don’t think so, it could be anyone,” Robin says, ducking his head down, his cheeks burning bright red, his hand moving to swipe over the mark softly. Mitch rolls his eyes, moving away from the Dutchman as his name is called for the qualifying draw. Robin looks up and seeing Ant’s eyes on his own, he smiles softly. Ant looks away, biting down on his lip as his own cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He doesn’t know how he manages to get through the rest of the race weekend, which is a shame - Buenos Aires was the place where he won his first ePrix and he has fond memories of the place. He still thinks of the moment when he stood on top of the podium, his voice hoarse and cracked, tears streaming down his face as the confetti rained around him and he felt like he had finally arrived. He doesn’t feel the same way two years on, the car is worse than usual and both he and Robin finish outside of the points. The debrief with Mark and the team is awkward to say the least.    
  
“I hope that your new mark isn’t distracting you, Robin,” Roger’s voice is delicate as though he’s trying to avoid an argument.    
  
It’s the wrong thing to say. Robin immediately stiffens at the accusation, squaring his shoulders at the team principal. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   
  
“It’s been the talk of the garage all weekend,” Roger tries to keep a steady tone. “And it’s very prominent, couldn’t your soulmate have touched you somewhere else?”   
  
Robin slowly stands up, the sound of the chair scraping across the floor is the only sound that echoes through the room. “I didn’t really have a say in the matter, Roger.” He says, shortly. “Though if you find them, will you tell them to touch me in a less prominent place next time?”   
  
Ant watches Robin leave the room, the room stunned into silence. 

He waits for a few moments before he follows the Dutchman, making a beeline for their shared motorhome. Ant feels his heart sink as he hears the distinctive sound of someone trying to hold back their sobs. He hesitates, not wanting to encroach on a moment of privacy for Robin, but he wants to show his support for the older driver. The need to comfort Robin wins out, and he gently knocks on the door before he enters, finding the Dutchman sitting on the floor, his arms resting atop of his knees. His head is slightly bent, but Ant knows that he’s been spotted.    
  
“G-go away, Toni,” Robin murmurs, his voice muffled by his knees.    
  
“I’m not leaving when you’re upset,” Ant replies, sinking down next to his teammate. “It was really crappy of him to say that,”   
  
Robin lifts his head slightly to glance at the Portuguese man, the bright blue mark evident on his pale skin. “Well, you’ve always been his favourite...he just sees me as the second driver who is there in case your car dies,”   
  
“That’s not true. You were here before I was,” Ant tries to keep his voice soft and gentle, not wanting to anger the Dutchman further, his eyes still locked on the mark staining Robin’s cheek. “And I don’t want to be anyone’s favourite,”   
  
Robin snorts. “Bit too late for that, Toni. It’s fine, I can handle it,”   
  
“It’s still not very professional to chalk up someone’s performance to a soulmark, is it?”   
  
Robin hums in agreement as the silence settles over the two drivers. It’s comfortable, which is a strange feeling for Ant as he’s not used to been quiet for so long. He rubs his neck absent-mindedly as Robin breaks the silence. “You touch your neck a lot, was that one of your soulmarks?”   
  
Ant bites his lip, his fingers tracing over the lilac mark that used to be bright and vibrant, like his love for her. “Yeah, it used to be. But she couldn’t handle me choosing between my career and her,”   
  
“Must have been difficult,” Robin murmurs. “I’ve never had a mark as bright as this one,”   
  
Ant feels his chest turn to ice at Robin’s words. “W-what? Ever?”   
  
Robin shakes his head, his cheeks turning pink at the accusation. “Never, nobody ever wanted me as their soulmate - I think it’s why I have so many colours, I wanted to see if anyone had the brightest one - but then this one appeared and I don’t know who it belongs to-”   
  
Ant finds himself glancing at the few visible marks on Robin’s body - the rose gold smear on his neck, the teal one that dances across his wrist, but his attention is drawn back to the bright blue spreading across Robin’s cheek. “Do you have any ideas?”   
  
“No,” Robin says with a sigh. “I just wanted to know who it was - I wanted to know what it feels like to love someone like that-”   
  
Ant wants nothing more than to reveal the truth but he’s stopped as Robin leans against his shoulder. “I guess I’m just not good enough for them - they touched me and ran away-” His voice sounds wet, and it breaks Ant’s heart. He lifts Robin’s head slightly with his finger, glancing into the dark blue eyes. “Robin, I-”    
  
However, before he can admit he’s the one who left the mark, Robin silences him with his lips. They’re warm and chapped against his own, and they taste of some sort of energy drink that Robin had been necking in the media pen prior to debrief. But it’s almost shy, and reluctant, until Ant’s hand closes over Robin’s cheek, his fingers splaying out over pale skin, brushing over Robin’s curls as he deepens the kiss, Robin panting against his mouth. Heat seems to burst over Robin’s skin at the contact and he gasps at the sensation. Time seems to stand still as they kiss, still curled up on the floor together until Robin’s hand finds Ant’s wrist. Ant jolts as he feels the warmth of a new mark begin to form, tearing his lips away.    
  
“I gotta go, I’m sorry-” Ant murmurs, sliding down the sleeve of his fireproofs as he tugs himself to his feet, leaving a confused Dutchman behind. 

Robin watches him leave, the door slamming shut behind him with the tingling sensation still on his lips. Pulling himself to his feet unsteadily, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his heart falls as he sees no discernable new colour on his face where Ant had touched him. However, on the other side of his face, the bright blue mark still taunts him.    
  
Ant feels his heart beat faster as he pushes up the sleeve of his fireproof, his eyes taking in the bright orange mark that paints his golden skin - it’s brighter than Adriana’s mark, brighter than any of the few marks that paint his skin and that mere fact terrifies him. He shoves his sleeve back down over the mark as though to hide its existence, trying not to think about how good Robin’s lips had felt against his own.    
  


* * *

  
Robin doesn’t speak to Ant at all in Mexico City. Ant tries to focus on his own problems - the car seems to improve in qualifying, with Ant managing to snatch an impressive P7 for his starting position. However, it’s the only highlight of the entire weekend as he’s forced out of the race with only a few laps to go, pulling over to the side with a suspected gearbox issue. Robin finishes just out of the points again and is strangely absent from the team debrief. Ant tries not to stare at the swirl of bright orange on the underside of his wrist as Roger apologises profusely, again and again.    
  
Ant listens and nods in all the right places, but he can’t help but think that he should be the one apologising - but the person he wants to say sorry to has disappeared. He texts Robin on the way to the airport but receives no response. The radio silence continues for a month, even after Robin posts an update on his instagram of himself with his knee up, resting in the wheelchair provided. Ant feels his heart drop at the photograph - the injury looks painful, and Robin will definitely need surgery. But the Dutchman flat out refuses to have it in the middle of the season. Ant watches his Blancpain race the week before Monaco, pain evident on his face as he pulls himself out of the car, limping back towards the garage.    
  
Robin and Stuart end up winning the race. Ant watches them climb up onto the podium, Robin’s bright orange mark evident on Stuart’s neck, the taller man supporting the injured Dutchman. It’s only after Ant turns off the television, he realises that the orange mark on Stuart’s skin pales in comparison with the one on his own wrist.    
  


* * *

  
“I don’t need a replacement,” Robin folds his arms, glaring at Roger and some of the other senior members of management. “My knee is fine, in case you hadn’t noticed, I raced last weekend and I  _ won _ ,”   
  
“It’s just a precaution, Robin. We would prefer you to race, but we have Alexander to step in just in case it’s too much for you, especially on the car swap,”   
  
“I’ll be fine,” Robin murmurs. “I know what you’re trying to do. I get it - they want a BMW driver in  _ both _ cars,”   
  
“Robin, we’re not discussing any sort of contract negotiations at this stage, either with you or Antonio. We’re not even at the halfway point in the season, we just want you to be comfortable and ready to win us some points, not destroy your knee so you’ll never race again,”   
  
“Could have fooled me, bringing in a BMW driver in case I might injure myself,” Robin huffs, his eyes darker than usual as he leans back against his car. “Really making me feel an integral part of this team,” His eyes meet Ant’s and he stiffens against his chair, trying to act as nonchalant as possible but Ant catches the glimpse of something else in his eyes, his hand moving to push down the sleeve of his fireproofs, eager to hide the bright orange mark he is sure Robin will identify as his own.    
  
Ant is eager to find Robin after the debrief but the Dutchman once again appears to have vanished into thin air. After checking the garage and swearing under his breath, he’s about to stalk over to Robin’s motorhome when he bumps into the one person he really didn’t want to see. He likes Alex - they’ve known each other for a while now, and they do get on, despite the age difference and the blatant gap in their interests. Alex is all about going back to the hotel and analysing his race data for a few hours, not spending time downing shots with Mitch and Daniel like he and Robin do.    
  
“Hey, is everything alright? I heard the meeting got a little heated,” Alex’s tone is non-judgemental.    
  
“Yeah, everything is fine,” Ant says, shifting from foot to foot. “Welcome to Andretti, it’s a little chaotic at times, I guess,”   
  
“Good, because I don’t want to come in between you and Robin-”   
  
Ant  _ blinks _ . “What?”   
  
“You and Robin,” Alex repeats the words, a look of confusion spreading over his face. “You’re together, right?”   
  
“What? No, no,” Ant shakes his head frantically. “What gave you that idea?”    
  
“Well, you always seemed close, and I noticed that there’s a new mark on your wrist that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t difficult to work out that it belonged to Robin. Does he know?”   
  
“No, and you’re not to say anything to him either,”   
  
Alex holds his hands up. “I’m not going to, I’m just surprised that he hasn’t noticed, I mean, your mark is like literally on his face for all to see-” He pauses, the realisation flickering over his features. “He doesn’t know it was you,”   
  
Ant bites down on his lip. “No, it never came up-”   
  
“You should tell him,” Alex says softly. “I think he likes you too,”   
  
“W-what? What are you talking about? I don’t like him - not like that,” Ant can feel his cheeks turn red as the words fall free from his lips. He doesn’t want everyone knowing his business, and certainly not when he ran away from Robin, unable to discuss his own feelings towards the Dutchman.    
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Alex’s voice is quiet. “It’s okay, I get it,” He lifts up his sleeve to showcase his own mark, a soft gold that presumably belongs to his wife. It shines brightly in the bright light, almost glittering against the pale skin. “I freaked out too,”   
  
“He’s never had a mark like it before,” Ant blurts out. “Like he’s never had one so bright before, and I just - I don’t know if I’m the right person for him,”   
  
“Well, don’t you think you should let him figure it out on his own?” Alex’s voice is soft as he clasps Ant’s wrist, just above where Robin’s new mark sits. Ant feels the familiar sensation of a new mark forming and a gasp falls through the air. However, it does not fall from Ant’s lips. He glances up to see Robin staring at his and Alex’s outstretched hands.    
  
“Robin-” Ant begins, but the words die on his lips as Robin all but limps away from the pair, a sob tearing free from his throat.    
  


* * *

  
Paris rolls around far too quickly for Ant’s liking. The only saving grace is that Robin managed to get through the Monaco race without any problems - Ant likes to think it’s because of his sheer willpower alone that his knee is magically no longer causing him any problems, but he’s seen the bottle of painkillers in the motorhome they share - and thanks to the lack of problems, Alex is absent from Paris. Ant doesn’t know whether to be thankful for this or not as he sits inside the garage, examining the bright orange mark that still stands out vividly against his skin. Alex’s colour - a sensible grey - is clearly visible underneath the orange, but is nowhere near as bright as the mark left by Robin. He throws a glance towards the other garage, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man that left the mark, but Robin is absent once more.    
  
Ant doesn’t see him at all during the entire weekend. It’s a shame really, Robin gifts the team their first points since the pair of them had snatched a glut of them away in the opening round in Hong Kong. The team celebrate the small victory - they’ve had little to celebrate this season, and when Ant finally catches a glimpse of Robin, he’s beaming, the mark still as bright as ever against his skin.    
  
However, when he watches Robin hobble back to the motorhome, he sees the facade drop. His knee is still causing him problems but he won’t let anyone close, won’t let anyone see his pain. He stumbles slightly and Ant finds himself moving to collect Robin’s shoulder. “What are you doing-” Robin begins, stiffening as his blue eyes lock on him.    
  
“Helping you,” Ant says, pulling them in the direction of the motorhome.    
  
“Why would you do that?” Robin’s voice is as stiff as his posture, hissing slightly in pain as Ant helps him to traverse the steps. “Aren’t you going to run away again?”   
  
Ant grits his teeth as they step inside the confines of the motorhome. “Not this time,” He mutters, helping lower Robin to the couch, trying to ignore the twist of his chest as Robin gasps in pain once more. “I’m sorry,”   
  
“For kissing me or for freaking out about it?” Robin asks, grabbing his painkillers. Twisting the cap off, the Dutchman shakes two into his palm and swallows them dry.    
  
“Both,” Ant says quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it, I was taking advantage of you-”   
  
Robin snorts, his head falling against the back of the couch. “Now you’re thinking for me? Look, I know I told you that I’d never formed a bond with anyone before, but that doesn’t mean that you’re taking advantage of me. Besides, you didn’t even leave a mark on me-”   
  
“I did,” Ant says quietly.   
  
“You don’t have to lie to me!” Robin snaps. “I saw you touching Alex, your mark is gold, not blue,”    
  
“My mark is blue,” Ant cuts in, his eyes flickering to meet cloudy blue ones. “That’s why you didn’t get a mark on your hand, because I’d touched you before-”   
  
Robin pauses for a moment, before understanding finally clicks into place and his expression goes blank. “Oh  _ god _ ,” He whispers, his face paler than usual, the mark brighter in comparison. 

And this time, it’s Robin who runs - well, limps on his bad ankle - away, leaving Ant alone with his own thoughts.    
  


* * *

  
Ant pushes Paris to the back of his mind, focuses on his training and preparation for Berlin in a few weeks time but the vision of Robin’s heartbroken pale face haunts his dreams and his every waking moment. He runs harder, as though to escape from the memories, pausing to take a swig from his water bottle, only to be confronted with the bright orange mark. It’s still as bright as ever, unfaded, even against Ant’s tanned skin.    
  
Ant catches a glimpse of his reflection on the way back to his apartment, and he stops - the lilac mark on his neck had faded considerably. He claps a hand over it, his eyes widening at the sight as Robin’s words turn over in his mind once again.   
  
_ “I’ve never formed a bond before,” _   
  
He thinks about all the different colours that swirl all over Robin’s pale skin, a myriad of different shades, all representing one thing - Robin’s desire to have a bright looking mark, to have someone who looked at him like he was the only person in the world - and Ant had ruined that. He wants nothing more than to call Robin, to apologise for touching him in the first place - but he knows that he isn’t sorry. He wanted to touch Robin, he wanted to see if the mark left by the Dutchman was brighter than the few others that littered his skin.    
  
_ “Oh god,”  _ Robin’s pale face, illuminated only by the bright blue mark splattered across his skin, fills his thoughts once more and he blinks back tears that threaten to fall.    
  


* * *

  
The days tick down towards Berlin and Ant feels the apprehension build up inside him. He dreams about Robin's tear filled eyes, pale skin marked by another's mark - this one is gold, much brighter than Ant’s - and he wakes up with sweat clinging to his own skin, his eyes flickering down towards the bright orange mark that curls over his wrist. It’s still as bright as he remembers, and he relaxes minutely, sinking back into the soft sheets. Ant can’t shake off the uneasiness as he makes the journey towards the circuit. He steps into the paddock, taking in the familiar rumble of his engineers goading one another, the sound of the cars being worked on ready for the weekend ahead. Robin’s side of the garage is a flurry of activity - engineers bandying back and forth, but there’s no sign of the Dutchman.   
  
Ant doesn’t see Robin until he arrives at the driver’s briefing, but the older man barely pays him any attention - Ant sinks down into a chair next to Felix as Robin continues to giggle at whatever Mitch is saying, their heads pressed together against one another.    
  
“Are you alright?” Felix asks, his eyes flickering over the orange mark that is visible, thanks to Ant’s sleeve rolling up. They widen for a moment, as he realises who the mark belongs to. “Robin?” He lowers his voice, his eyes moving to glance over at the Dutchman, still enthralled by whatever Mitch is saying.    
  
Ant nods once, his hand moving to slide the mark out of sight, the bright orange hidden underneath his fireproofs. “It’s complicated,”   
  
“What happened?” Felix’s voice is soft and steady. “You never usually allow anyone to leave a mark on you,” He stops as Robin lifts his head slightly, revealing the bright mark that still spreads across his cheek, the bright blue standing out against his skin. “ _ Oh _ ,” He says, glancing between the pair, putting all the pieces together.    
  
“Yeah,” Ant says bitterly, watching as Mitch pulls Robin back into a conversation. “He realised that it was me, and he ran away,”   
  
“Maybe he’s scared?” Felix suggests.    
  
“Yeah, because he realises that it’s me that he is stuck with,” Ant mutters, glancing over at Robin who doesn’t notice the attention.    
  
“You know that’s not true,” Felix sighs. “He’s searched for his soulmate for a long time, you’ve seen how many coloured marks he has on his skin - and you have so few-”   
  
Ant bristles at the comment. “Well, it never went right the first time did it?”   
  
Felix nods once. “But that doesn’t mean that it won’t go right ever again, does it? You’re scared Toni, you’re scared of letting people in because you got hurt before,”   
  
“I-” Ant begins, worrying his lip. He knows that Felix is right - because Felix is _ always  _ right.    
  
“You’re scared of being hurt again, and you’re scared you’ll lose Robin like you lost your first person,”    
  
“I guess I am,” Ant says softly. “Even though Robin’s mark is brighter than Adriana’s ever was,”   
  
“You should give him a chance, Toni. You might regret it if you don’t,”   
  
Ant can only watch Robin in silence and process Felix’s advice. The mark, as bright as ever, taunts him from the upturned sleeve of his fireproofs once again, showcasing Robin’s feelings for him for the whole world to see.    
  
He has to talk to Robin, he has to find out what he truly feels.   
  


* * *

  
Finding Robin in Berlin is harder than it looks. The Dutchman seems to vanish after the driver’s briefing and he’s nowhere to be seen in the garages. Ant has to bury his anger and frustration towards the older man, the mark continuously taunting him from his wrist. He tries to push his thoughts to one side, focus on the race ahead and achieve a decent qualifying result but they keep drifting back inevitably to the man sharing the other side of the garage. Ant is dead last in the first qualifying session, and the race is no better. He’s thankful to finally leave the car and traipse back into the garage, clutching his water bottle as his engineers flood the immediate area. Ant brushes off their concerns and stalks back to the motorhome, fury still pulsing through him that he let Robin get to him. He let the Dutchman get under his skin, and he hates himself for that. As he pushes open the door, he’s suddenly met by bright blue eyes.    
  
“Robin,” He whispers, catching Robin’s wrist as the older man turns to leave. Robin glances down at his own wrist, noting that no colour blossoms there, biting down on his lip with enough force to draw blood.    
  
“Let me go, Antonio,”   
  
Ant bristles at the words - Robin never calls him  _ that _ . “Robin, we need to talk about this, about us,” The final word makes Robin stiffen and he wrenches his wrist away as though the touch burns him.    
  
“We don’t need to talk, Antonio. We have a race tomorrow, we need to focus on that, not on this stupid thing that won’t ever happen,”   
  
“You don’t know that for sure, Robin!” Ant snarls, wrenching a hand through his hair.   
  
“I do know that, I know that you don’t want to let anyone in, the lack of marks on your skin tells me enough!”    
  
“That’s a personal choice, Robin. Like it’s yours to cover yourself in them-”   
  
“At least I’m not a coward, you’re scared to face up to any feelings you might have for anyone, so you just bury them and pretend they don’t exist,” Robin sneers, his face twisted in anger, the mark still visible against his pale skin of his cheeks.    
  
Robin’s words  _ hurt _ , and Ant feels himself reeling back at them. “So that’s what you really think of me?”   
  
Robin pauses for a moment. “I- I didn’t mean it like that,”   
  
“Then what did you mean?”    
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Robin looks away, the blush catching on his cheeks.    
  
“I don’t think I’m the only person who is a coward,” Ant’s voice is thin, almost like a thread. “You believed in marks all your life, now suddenly, you finally have one that burns more brightly than the rest and you suddenly change your mind? Is it because of me?”   
  
“You were the one who never wanted a mark! You could have touched me years ago-”   
  
“Marks don’t work like that, Robin, and you know it,” Ant replies. “And it’s not that I never wanted a mark - I just didn’t want to get hurt again, I didn’t want anyone to be close to me,”   
  
Robin worries his lip as he glances up at the Portuguese man. “What changed for you then? Why did you touch me?”   
  
“I don’t know...I just wanted to see what it was like to touch someone, to see if I left a mark,”   
  
Robin’s face drops. “That’s all I was to you? An experiment?”   
  
“No, no, not at all,” Ant murmurs, shaking his head furiously. “You were the first person that I wanted to touch myself,”   
  
Silence falls over the motorhome, Ant shifting his feet from side to side as Robin finally lifts his gaze, his words breaking through the quiet. “So what now?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Ant says, honestly. “I don’t know,” He wants nothing more than to kiss Robin again, to see the feeling will return, but he knows that it’s not the right decision. He doesn’t want to confuse Robin further. They end up sitting down on the couch in silence, his hand slowly finding the Dutchman’s. Robin accepts the hand, allowing Ant’s thumb to slowly stroke over his skin, his eyes finding the bright orange mark he knows belongs to himself.    
  


* * *

  
The thin thread of reconciliation holds strong for the remaining race in Berlin. Both Ant and Robin end up without any points once again, Ant missing out on tenth place by over ten seconds, but he manages to hold off Nelson for P11. Ant pushes away the disappointment, trying to explain for what feels like the nineteenth time this season that his steering is all off - everyone knows that there’s nowhere to fix the steering settings, but Ant wants to push home the point so that the problem will be rectified by next season. The debrief doesn’t take more than ten minutes and Ant finds himself trudging back to the motorhome.    
  
He pauses in the doorway as he hears a muffled sob. He knows instinctively who it belongs to. He tentatively takes a few steps, gently shutting the door behind him. “Robin?”   
  
“Leave me alone, Toni,” Robin blurts out. The Dutchman is half hidden in darkness, his voice clearly thick from unshed sobs. “I want to be alone,”   
  
“Robin-” Ant says again, moving towards the couch where Robin is curled up, his shoulders shaking from the exertion. “What happened?”   
  
“Nothing, go away,” Robin mutters under his breath. “Just go away, Toni,”   
  
“Not until you tell me what is wrong,” Ant says softly, slowly settling himself down next to his teammate. “What happened?”   
  
“I don’t think that they’re going to keep me for next year,” Robin finally lets the secret slip.    
  
Ant is wordless as he pulls Robin closer to himself, his chest aching as he finds the wetness against the front of his fireproofs, Robin shaking silently against him, his shoulders heaving. Ant closes his eyes, allowing his hands to gently rub over the Dutchman’s shoulder. Robin feels  _ right  _ in his arms. He lets the older man cry out his feelings, trying to ignore the throb inside his chest at Robin’s sobs, his eyes once again finding the bright orange mark spread across his wrist.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Ant whispers quietly. “They don’t know what a big mistake they’re making,”   
  
Robin lifts his gaze to meet Ant’s. “Why are you here?”   
  
“You’re upset, Robin. Where else would I be?” Ant can’t tear his eyes away from the matching mark on Robin’s cheek as the Dutchman remains silent, his head falling back against Ant’s chest, the strong warm fingers stroking softly over his back. Robin’s hand finds Ant’s again, his thumb tracing slowly over the orange mark. Neither of them know what the future holds, either for their fledgling romance or their careers ahead, but they know they have each other. Ant smiles as he leans into the touch, squeezing back.    
  



End file.
